The Impossible
by katklaws
Summary: The lesser known characters and their lives are being spotlighted. Each of their tales, from before we knew them and after we learned about them, are revealed. Chapter One: Ruby. Chapter Two: Primrose. And now, Chapter Three: Twilight's Minis Part One!
1. Ruby

I always thought Ruby's tale was so mysterious I just decided to put some light onto it.

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_**The Impossible: Ruby**_

To say all owls lived in hollows among the shady foliage of the trees would be a lie, because it was partially false. A handful of odd species make a living in rock formations or dens on the ground.

Stretched before a young owlet was a grassy field. The long, whippy blades of tan-white and green grass interspersed with fronds of the occasional flowing flower or shrub were being picked at by the wind. Past the meadow and beyond the Short-eared Owl's sight was more grasslands. The young raptor narrowed her stark yellow eyes and swayed gently with the early spring breeze.

The ruddy-colored bird kept her fledging wings tucked safely at her sides. The evening shades of First Dark descended swiftly but gradually in the rhythm of time and life. The owlet observed the splendor of colors darkening far on the horizon, sharp eyes finding the outline of a single pine tree on the next hill from hers.

No longer could the Short-eared Owl see her parent's in their search for their offspring's next meal. This owlet let herself be concealed by the low vegetation of her her nest but pecked restlessly at scraps of bedding in sheer boredom. In the smooth, chilly night, this owlet began to feel scared. First she had been exhilarated at the prospect of being all alone in the vastness of the grasslands. Her wings were filling in with new feathers and down all the time and she had known that tonight was special even though her primaries had yet to show themselves completely.

The owlet plodded out from her hiding place and watched the last streak of lavender die down into the midnight blue sky. Stars twinkled and blinked at different intensities as a long, low cloud blank, grey and alone, drifted in front of the moon, blotting out the sliver of silver light.

It was odd that she was sibling-less, a rarity in fact but she seemed to have taken all the rust-color from her would-be brothers and sisters. She wasn't a deep thinker in the arts or anything along those lines but both her parents flying geniuses and this Short-eared Owl would mature into a fine flyer. And this was just a regular night where the parents would leave and hunt, food being scarce though the warmer days showing promise for a prosperous summer. She was bored but anxious and waiting. Waiting for her parents to return, Waiting for those feathers to come in. There always seemed to be something to wait for.

Suddenly the owlet felt a terror to the point of numbing as a form, wavering, uncertain, like a vision hovering on the edge nothingness and a nightmare grew from the darkness.

A ominous figure, breath rasping, wings ungainly and noisy, cut a dark outline in the night and numerous shadowy, translucent others followed it. The ends of their wings and tails were ragged black feathers that seemed too heavy and tussled to get any lift. But these horrific beasts continued their arduous, labored flight, ever approaching the unprotected owlet. The mere appearance of its plumage was enough send tremors in anyone's gizzard but the face could kill, literally. The hooked beak was saw-edged and glinted in what moonlight showed through the clouds. The talons were razor sharp and exceedingly long. The body itself was set heavier than a crow and longer than an owl.

The owlet stood no chance. Her young heart began to race madly. Never in her most feverish and delirious nightmares could the owl have envisioned such a ghastly creature. The worst part she concluded in a state of strange numbed, frozen panic was that its eyes were so yellow, they seemed to pour forth a piercing light. Yet had the moonlight from above been any stronger, the forms would have been completely shone through and made invisible and so would've the owlet to them but the conditions on this night were just exactly the wrong place at the wrong time.

The young raptor moaned inwardly for her parents. She had seen them her whole life. They were the only ones in her world. Their grace in flight and deadly cunning in battle was renowned until they had settled and became fiercely protective parents. The owlet was shaking in fear. Where were they?

She could wait no longer. Her terror so profound, her wits at an end, the young, impressionable owlet whipped out her wings and pumped them against gravity. Had a lesser bird of her condition attempted such a feat, they would have failed but the owlet pulled up her feet, bent herself to the task and rose.

The fiendish-looking, low-flying birds with their horrid eyes seemed to bore through her heart, mind and gizzard, paralyzing every thought except the one that cried in fear, _I will not die!_ The Short-eared Owl gained altitude. Her muscles were on fire and yet as cold as liquid steel, as suddenly her mind realized they were watching her. Too scared to scream, her beak parted in a silent wail as her wings blurred and she shot off like arrow from bow.

That one tree stood outlined by distant stars and the owlet's bright yellow eyes locked onto it. Body aquiver in what could be described as no less than sheer terror for her life, the young bird knew that if she could just get away from those gruesome figures she would never whine to her parents again. She would wait till her parents had settled before demanding her food after returning from a hunt. Just if she never had to see or hear or _think _of those killers ever again.

Panting, making more noise in flight than a tornado-tossed gull and muscles screaming in protest, the owl grabbed the branch of the pine tree, higher than she had ever been, huddled against the trunk, to scared to do little more than sob and shake in fear, she waited. Waited for the unspeakable creatures to kill her. Waited till the morning sun broke her state of frozen fear and saved her from them. She waited.

So came the orphanage of Ruby and the prelude of the next hagsfiend era which would get so much worse before it got better.


	2. Primrose

I love Primrose so i wrote her story here. please r+r!

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_**The Impossible: Primrose**_

Roosted high in a fir tree forest, a young owl peered out her hollow, her vision obscured by various other trees and plants. Simple by nature, this pygmy owl couldn't help but worry. Her mother had gone out to hunt, leaving her to egg-sit.

This young owl was called Primrose. Beneath her somewhat lay two eggs, her younger siblings-to-be. Primrose told herself to calm down as she swiveled her head almost 180° to watch the night sky flowing above her, dotted with stars and shining with a perfectly round, pure white moon.

Testing her wings, young Primrose fluffed her feathers out and flapped, beaming with momentary pride. Her feathers were well on there way and soon she would have her First Hunt ceremony, which was a celebration that involved the whole family. Reassured by her own thoughts, the pygmy owl returned to settle on the clutch.

Her thoughts revolved eventually to the two orbs before her, as she stepped carefully over them then rested her belly feathers against them lightly. What would it be like to be an older sister? What would a little sister be like? Primrose blinked. She might even have a younger brother, which wouldn't be as fun as having a younger sister, she decided.

Little Primrose rested and stared out the hollow, into the inviting, dark shades of the night, though Primrose could see quite well. It was when her little head jerked up from nearly dozing off that she realized something _was _wrong.

Curling in the night she saw it. Silver-gray smoke obscured the beauty of the night sky, smudging the stars and dirtying the moon, and Primrose could already feel sharp updrafts of intense heat blowing across the tree tops. Her feathers pulled close to her body as she recognized the signs.

Forest fire!

Her parents had warned her once that to a tree-dwelling owl, forest fires were the deadliest threat. Well, that, just after to a direct lightning strike. Primrose tested her wings then hopped onto the branch outside the hollow.

"Oh _no_," she moaned in fear. The young Pygmy Owl had never had to make big decisions before. That had been her parents' jobs, as well as hunting, flying and worrying in general. Primrose chanced hopping further out onto the branch. She could now see a bright orange blaze on the horizon.

"Mum! Da!" Primrose shrieked in her last ditch attempt to make things right but there was no reply. She was almost delirious with terror. Maybe it was all a bad dream? Primrose may have been content with the simpler things, but she wasn't that gullible.

Muttering little fearful moans under her breath, Primrose hopped back to the edge of the hollow and looked back over her shoulder.

Her breath was ripped from her chest in sheer distress and alarm.

The entire other half of the forest, and still approaching, was the most magnificent sight Primrose had ever seen. The glorious flames were pulling a deadly trick but Primrose tore her eyes away to look at the pair of eggs. Feeling the waves of heat at her back, sudden realization made Primrose wilt and weaken. She would have to fly out _and _carry the eggs with her!

Primrose waddled to the perfect pair of white orbs. She picked one up in her talons and faltered under its weight. It wasn't much but it was enough to knock her off balance. Wondering how to carry them both at the same time, Primrose hop-flew to the mouth of the hollow and laid one down then returned for the other. Placing them side by side, she took one last look about the hollow then stared into the hellish nightmare.

Primrose had once wondered when she could show her true courage. Lofting herself in the air with much difficulty for a moment, she attempted to lift an egg in each talon but to her horror, she found the weight was too much. Pumping her wings harder, she clenched her beak and strained to fly out.

One egg slipped out of her grasp and thudded into the soft, mossy floor of the hollow as she went into the once-peaceful night. Primrose would have gone back for the fallen egg but the fire! The terrible fire! It wasn't dancing in beautiful banners but was devouring everything from the forest floor to the tree tops. Primrose felt the air change around her very body and suddenly it seemed as some beast had grabbed her tail and wing feathers. Struggling against this massive pulling, Primrose forgot everything. She didn't want to die! Not in a fiery inferno like this.

On the brink of both sobbing and collapsing, Primrose tore out of the down-sucking wind and shot into the opposite direction from the blazing fire.

It was only then she realized she was only holding one egg. "No!" the Pygmy Owl screeched and nearly turned around to go back. She swiveled her head just in time to see her home burst into flames. Wings locked suddenly into a gliding position, Primrose stared in horror as her whole world was destroyed, thinking with a dead calmness, _There's no going back_.

The haphazard winds sent her back into reality. Instead of the sucking wind pockets, a burning, spasmodic updraft boosted her far away from everything she knew.

Her heart was racing and adrenaline spikes threw her body off balance. Shuddering and simply pushed past her body's capabilities, little Primrose could hear the roaring of the fiery monster and she knew that it could travel as fast, or faster, than she could fly. The young owl put in one last sprint to escape.

Flying in a race for her life, Primrose made good time for being so small and so tired. Beak continuously open for panting gasps of air, she watched the trees and sky spin around her and chanced a backwards glance. She stared in surprise. The forest fire that she had nearly been killed by wasn't keeping up with her. Primrose suddenly realized that she was safe and her small form sagged in flight.

_Safe_, she thought, exhaustedly, _Safe. Me and my little sister are safe_.

The empty blackness of unconsciousness began to move in silently on the edges of her vision.

_But maybe I don't have a little sister_.

Primrose began losing altitude.

_Maybe I have a little brother. I wonder what a little brother will be like?_

The Pygmy Owl's exhausted muscles began to give way and her grip on the egg loosened.

_Yes, a little brother all my own. What should he be named?_

Primrose faltered in flight and she struggled to keep her eyes open. In her delirious state, her parents were nothing in her mind. Had she been thinking clearly she would have began worrying about how she could provide for an owlet when she was hardly more than an owlet herself.

_Albert? No, that'll never do. Osgood? Yes, of course, Osgood will be a very good name for him._

Primrose no longer had sensation in her legs and wings. That dark blackness of sleep was nearly blinding her and she was soon flying down among the trees. The egg was slipping away along with her consciousness...

_Osgood. Osgood. We're gonna be fine, Osgood,_ Primrose thought as she began falling. The egg slipped away silently but Primrose, soot-speckled, singed and sinking, still murmured to it. She did not hear it hit the ground, nor did she hear herself falling into the fern clump. She didn't even hear the rain pattering on her or when Guardians began lifting her away to a legendary place.

Primrose didn't hear until she was tucked away in a downy bed without her parents, without the egg in the hollow, without the unborn owlet, Osgood. All she had was a new friend and a new life, one she had never expected in the Great Ga'Hoole tree.


	3. Twilight: Part One

Twilight's Minis

_Part One: Foxy Owl_

"What is it?"

"I don't know. Is it dead?"

"How do you even know it was alive if you don't know what it is?"

"Move over, I can't see!"

"Move yourself, you little- Oof!"

"That's what you get! Whoa, what is that?"

"Everybody, _get out of the way_!" Immediately, the three fox cubs scattered away from the den's entrance. Their father, a lithe, magnificent red fox stepped into the moonlight. Past the closest two rises of sand, a lump of mottled silver and black lay motionless in the sandy wind, it's feathers sticking up in disarray.

The fox padded out and stood over the object in question, the dog-fox's mate at his side. The vixen stepped forward and prodded the apparently dead creature. She looked up and blinked at him. "I do believe it's a young owl."

Twilight's gizzard felt oddly still and emotionless. The moonlight was sharp, sharp like shattered shards of unrelenting ice but Twilight was tired and ready to give up finding a place to shelter. He had left Ambala in a hurry, flying for half the night, all day then into the night again. Of course, Twilight had not stopped to eat or rest the entire time, fueled by the rage of being abandoned yet again. Then suddenly as night descended for a second time, Twilight had seen the constellations and clouds blur and then he was in the sand.

He turned his half-lidded eyes onto a dark creature, the strangest looking beast Twilight had ever seen, and in the moonlight so numbing and bright, he could see sharp, deadly fangs in its mouth. Teeth, the things every young owl was taught to fear from the day they hatch, and now they were reflecting light above his throat.

The young Great Gray Owl's gizzard shrank and quaked in fear. He tried to speak but his throat was dry so the only words that came were, "Don' ... eat me ... please." Twilight rarely ever used his manners but for some reason (several, very sharp reasons that were glinting in the moonlight) he felt compelled to be polite to get on their good side.

Barren and his mate, Small-Bark, looked at each other again in utter shock. This half -dead creature could speak? On any other occasion, the foxes would have eaten fresh meat fallen at their doorstep but now it just didn't seem right. After all, he was very young and had pleaded for mercy. Not knowing what else to, the two foxes oh-so-gently carried the owl between them by the shoulders and tail them as if carrying a baby fox by the scruff.

The three cubs leapt up, expecting the unconscious owl to be a late dinner. Barren laid about with his brush and foreleg and sent the cubs darting this way and that as they nimbly avoided being hit.

"Now listen up, you three," Small-Bark ordered sharply, staring each in the eye to emphasize her words. "This night bird is not for eating. It will be here for a little while because it doesn't feel well.

Meanwhile, Twilight sighed with relief in his sleep. The incessant tingling of his brain and gizzard had stopped now that he'd entered a new darkness in the night. Little did he know he was sleeping in the predators' den.

:-;-:

Twilight woke in the broad daylight hours because sun was shining right on his large, closed eyes. The moment Twilight awoke, he wished he'd hadn't. _Was I sleeping on the _ground _or something? _He thought bitterly as he got to his talons and stretched his aching back. Suddenly, the past few days events rushed back as his wings brushed a ceiling and soft pelt.

The owl stumbled as a his head spun for a moment then toppled to the ground with a screech. Standing on his chest were the two forelegs of a burgundy-furred creature with a long, luxurious tail. It looked just like those two creatures from last night but was a fraction of their size, and in addition to that, looked quite a bit clumsier with youth.

"Trick, Sender, look it's awake!" the cub barked in a voice that strangely reminded Twilight of his own. But at the reference of himself as an 'it', twilight was offended.

"It? I am not an it.," Twilight scolded, instinctively knowing he was older than the cub. The owl flapped his broad wings once to send him flying. The three cubs gathered together and learned to truly appreciate the size and strength of a Great Gray Owl, even if it was only halfway grown.

Sender, a bit slower but a bit sweeter than his two siblings, asked with bright, curious eyes, "Then what are you, mister?"

Twilight blinked and asked himself, _Mister? Did he just call me mister? _Twilight almost melted at the irresistible charm of the red fox cub and sucked his feathers in a bit to reduce how threatening he looked just for Sender.

"I'm an owl, a Great Gray Owl. But I don't have anywhere to live now," Twilight explained.

"Why?" Trick, a little vixen, asked. It was a simple question but had a long list of answers and Twilight had to think before he replied.

The owl turned from the cubs and looked out the den entrance to figure out what time of day it was as he spoke, "Because I never had a Mum or Dad like you guys have." Trick, Sender and their brother looked at each other in incomprehension then came barrage of questions that quickly went off topic.

"Who brought you food?" "Who kept you warm when it was cold?" "Who gave you wings?" "Yeah, and the feathers, too?" "Can I have feathers and wings?" "Don't be so stupid. Why would he give you his wings?" "Maybe he has extra under his feathers." "Then we could be owl-foxes and fly and stuff!" "We'd be the best hunters in the desert!" "The best in the _world_!"

Twilight shrank back at the terrific speed these cubs spoke and only silenced them when they realized Twilight put his wing over his eyes in defeat while he chook his head slowly.

"What's the matter?" Sender asked.

Twilight hid a chuckle then replied, "I was just trying to get your attentions but I don't know your names."

The smallest of the litter, a tiny dog-fox with sweet emerald eyes thrust his nose up to Twilight's beak. "I'm Sender!" The slightly-larger vixen with soft hazel eyes butted him out of the way with a harmless body-bump. "But I'm Trick, and that's Mister Grumpy-Snout!" Trick giggled as she pointed with her white-tipped tail. The fox in question glared at her and hopped up to the owl, pushing Trick and Sender away, just to show the vixen that he was the strongest of the litter. "I'm Paw-in-the-Storm."

Trick and Sender slammed into Paw-in-the-Storm and all three fell into a ball of tumbling fur. "Don't be such pompous poo, Pip-Paw!" Sender said, accompanied by an odd high-pitched trill that Twilight figured was a fox's way of churring. Paw-in-the-Storm yipped indignantly, "Don't call me Pip-Paw!" and crushed the smallest cub with a flying pounce. Twilight watched as bittersweet memories and thoughts surfaced. Perhaps... Twilight wouldn't leave immediately. No, not at all.

For several nights to come, Twilight lived in the cactus's hollow above the foxes den. But, occasionally, Twilight felt the perplexing hole of maybe loneliness yawn open in his gizzard. On these instances, Twilight would hop down to the entrance of the foxes' den and stare in pleadingly. The stares would return, glinting neon green in the moonlight. He would sleep among them and feel the soft fur of foxes, and for a heartbeat, Twilight wondered if he'd just escaped reality and became fox, just another cub in the litter.

Part of a real family.

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this is part one to a 4-part twilight thingy. then, its on to ... other stuff! er, suggestions, anyone? 


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